The Witch's Children
by l.r.caffrey
Summary: Magic is nonexistent in the eyes of humans. Though, magical beings still exist. They hide within human society, either embracing their magic or shunning it. But an old evil, long forgotten, has been brought back. The choice is to either join it, in turn fighting against humans, or rebel and fight against the one known as the Nightmare King. Hijack.


_A failure of a son. Of a witch. Of __**anything.**_

Thoughts are enough to destroy a person. Leave them alone for too long, and when you come back from them, they've shattered into a pile of broken glass. Thoughts are the most dangerous things that humans came come up with. And when those thoughts turn into words?

They're deadly.

Night. The moon rides through the sky on the stars, taking all the light from the sun to force people to notice it. Stars light up the background, but it's nothing compared to the moon. People have stared up at it for thousands of years, wondering what it was, why it was there, how it came to be there.

"Shame we know what it is now." A figure clouded in shadows mutters to himself. A meow from behind him is a sign of agreement.

Out the window, all you'd be able to see is the top of a head. Auburn hair, maybe you can see the freckled skin of his forehead at the right angle. The side of his head is pressed against the window, a feeling of the cool glass is there, but he doesn't mind.

"Imagine what it was like back then." He sighs, bringing his knees up to his chest. It's too late for him to be up, especially considering the amount of sleep he was going to get in the coming days. It's too late by anything's standards, except his imagination. As his body screams for his sleep, the thoughts buzzing around his head refuse to calm for just a few hours. It was a curse. "Being a Roman or a Greek- or even earlier than that- and just gazing at the moon. What is the surface like? Where is the light coming from?... Knowing it kind of takes the fun out of this now."

Around him the house is quiet. His dad must be sleeping thankfully. Green eye's gaze travels through the room, taking in everything. The mess of clothes scattered and forgotten on the floor, books stacked on one another, some sprayed open. There's a hole in the roof, a plant growing out it and a cool breeze following. It's a small room, compared to the rest of his house, but he doesn't mind. On the wooden door is his name, _Hiccup Haddock, _carved into it. His dad did that when he was younger, when Hiccup still had trouble spelling his name. Now it just seems silly.

"What do you think, Toothless?" Hiccup asks his cat, gaze brought back to the moon.

Toothless jumps up onto the bed, a purr filling the silence of the room. It rubs against his legs before settling down on his feet.

"You're tired? What a surprise." He chuckles softly, gently rubbing behind Toothless's ears. "Sleeping all day must be exhausting… Though," yawn, "I guess I should get to sleep myself. It'll be a long day tomorrow." As he speaks he lays down and lets himself sink into the matress. With a soft mutter the blankets move to wrap around him. He closes his eyes and

_BEEP BEEP BEEP_

Hiccup manages to pry his eyes open, the moon's gentle light in the sky is now replaced by the sun's harsh rays. He groans, mouth dry and body warm. Toothless is gone, probably out trying to find something to eat. Reluctantly, Hiccup pulls himself out of bed. Ratty jeans, stripped white and brown shirt, and old dark brown jacket and Hiccup is ready for the day. His bare feet slap against the wooden floors as he walks to the kitchen. He can hear a sizzling sound as soon as he opens his bedroom door. It sounds like something is building up to explode, but from experience Hiccup knows that won't. Things only explode when he creates them.

In the kitchen is his father. Seven feet tall, long, ratty red beard, and a glare that could cause your bones to freeze on the spot. Stoick the Vast. Also known as the complete opposite of Hiccup. He isn't glaring this morning, probably because he hadn't had to spend the morning cleaning up another one of Hiccup's midnight experiments.

"Hey dad." Hiccup mutters, reaching into a bowl on the middle of the table to grab an apple.

"Mornin', Hiccup." Stoick greets, sounding oddly chipper this morning. "Don't take the red ones, Gobber brought us them from the store."

A red apple is already in his grasp, but he quickly drops it when he hears it's origins. "Green it is." He sighs, picking a green one. Usually they were too tart, but it has to be better than the apples Gobber picked up from who-knows-where at who-knows-what kind of store. He takes a bite of the apple, holding it between his teeth as he grabs his boots to slip them on.

"Son, have you seen that cat of yours? You didn't let him outside again, did you?" Stoick asks, not looking up from the pot he was stirring ingredients into.

Hiccup pulls the apple out of his mouth, swallowing the bite. "Toothless? I don't _let _him do anything, dad. Why?"

"...Just haven't seen him this morning."

"Don't worry. You'll know where he is if you hear Gothi scream again." He mutters, his lips quirking up.

Stoick glances back at his son, expression unamused. Hiccup shrinks back slightly under the gaze. "That's not funny son. You know that cat has been causing problems ever since I've let him stay here. You need to keep him under control."

"… Yes, sir." Hiccup nods because it's the only thing he can do. His dad never liked Toothless, and Hiccup knows that if he goes too far Toothless will be shipped off to a shelter before you could say "bad cat". And that would end horribly for a number of reasons. "I'll be off to school, then."

"Remember the rules." Is all Stoick says.

"Yes sir." And Hiccup is out the door.

* * *

><p>It's cold and it's dark and everything around feels unfamiliar to him. He wiggles his toes then his fingers, reassuring himself that he's still there. There's the muffled sound of music pumping against his eardrums, but it doesn't sound like music. Music has notes, patterns, sometimes lyrics. This is just a random beat, almost sounding like drums, deep and loud in his head.<p>

Minutes pass by before he can open his eyes, finally there's light. It's glaring down at him like a spotlight. He tenses, he's going to be sick. His body jerks up from it's sitting position and finally he can see around him.

A room. It's painted light green. There's a window to the left of him, the curtains closed. A fan, the cold air sweeping through the room.

To the right of him are several chairs, two occupied.

It takes him a moment to remember the two, they look so alike it shocks him slightly. The names float back into his consciousness the first is a faint whisper _Emily _and the second one sounds more like a prayer _Emma. _A small girl, Emma, and an older woman, Emily or his mother. Both have the same brown eyes and facial features. Emma has brown hair, and his mother a dark black.

"Jack?" Emma asks after a moment of him staring at them.

_Your name is Jack. Jack Frost. _He thinks to himself, the words coming easily like he's said them over and over again. He has. _That is Emma and your mom. You're fine, you're seventeen years old, and you're not drowning. _

Though he thinks it, he body doesn't seem to agree. Gasps of breath suck in all the air possible, he's hesitant to let it go.

"It'll be fine, honey." His mother whispers to Emma, wrapping an arm around the girl. The words are reassuring, but her eyes show her true worry.

"Your mom is right, sweetie." A voice says from behind him. The pounding of the drums have faded, now he can hardly hear them. "It'll just take his body a moment to adjust."

The voice's body walks into view. She's short, her hair just as short. Her skin is a light brown and her eyes an even lighter brown. In the right light Jack swears you can see sparkles of pink even though it doesn't make sense. Her hair is brightly colored, like she's trying to recreate a rainbow with her head. There's a smile on her face, bright and reassuring. She must know by now how to hide the bad news behind her expression, bury the look of worry and replacing it with one of reassurance.

Doctor Ana.

Jack doesn't believe that's her name but it's the only one that matches her face.

Slowly the fog clears in his mind, the feeling of water surrounding him drips away until he's sure that it's air again. "… Doctor." He finally manages to say, his voice is calm thankfully.

She beams at him. "Good to see you're back with us, Jack. How are you feeling?"

A destructive, dangerous question.

"Great for a guy who just got stabbed with a needle." He grins. It's weaker than his usual ones, but it's still there. He reaches up to gently touch the spot on his neck where the needle had gone in. The area around it is cold and damp.

Ana rolls her eyes, expecting that answer. "Are you still feeling like you're drowning?"

He wants to say no, but it would be no good to lie. No matter how much he wants to hide it, they're always there to see his reaction. "… It's not as bad as it was before."

"Great!" Ana chirps, but he knows she doesn't believe him. Hell, who would? "I'm glad to see your reaction is improving. I'll go and get your papers." Her cheery voice hasn't faltered as she walks out of the room, her coat swishing behind her.

Jack shifts into a more comfortable position on the table, the paper crinkling under him. "How long was I out?" He asks, running a hand through his hair.

"Just a few minutes this time." His mother says, standing up and walking closer to him. She reaches out and tries to smooth down his air, a pointless attempt, but he doesn't stop her. She looks so tired, her brown eyes now dark like the bags she's carrying under her eyes. Steadily she's been getting thinner, before because of a new diet and now Jack's sure is because of stress. Her arm is boney and her hand cold.

"You did that weird staring thing." Emma informs him, rocking back and forth in her seat, her legs dangling over the edge.

"Was I?"

"Yep. It hasn't gotten any less weird."

"Yeah, and neither have you, Emma." Jack teases her, sticking his tongue out at her. Her eyes widen in surprise for a second and then she's quick to retaliate. Usually by now their mother would be shushing them, scolding Jack lightly for teasing his sister. Instead she just wraps her free arm around his shoulders, a little too tight for his liking, but he doesn't complain.

Ana is back by now. She back and forth so quick Jack isn't sure if she doesn't have some sort of teleporting ability or if she has clones.

He's kinda hoping for clones. It'd be much more interesting.

"Well, Miss Jackson, here you are. I'll see you next month, Jack." She flashes him a smile, handing his mother the papers. It isn't a question, it's a fact. A fact of Jack's everyday life.

He can already feel the date looming over him, like a death sentence. In a way it is. A part of him always dies on these visits. Doctor's appointment is just a nicer name for it.


End file.
